


Storms

by meetmeatthecoda



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, everyone's favorite things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 08:06:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11077461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecoda/pseuds/meetmeatthecoda
Summary: Written for tumblr prompt: "Hold my hand until it's over?" Liz and Red are stuck in a cabin during a thunderstorm. No Tom. Duh. Lizzington.





	Storms

Booms and crashes. Light and flashes. That’s all Liz knows as she cowers in the corner of the large, worn couch. Rain beats the windows and wind howls outside. Liz has her feet pulled up on the couch seat and her jacket hood pulled over her head and she’s trembling.

She and Red are holed up in a remote and secluded log cabin he owns, caught by surprise by a thunderstorm whilst out in the forest looking for a blacklister. All very convenient, Liz thought, a little suspicious. But all of her skeptical thoughts disappeared when the storm started in earnest. 

Liz has always been afraid of storms, ever since she was a little girl. Sam used to tuck her in with blankets and hot cocoa and they would play board games until it was over. But now she’s alone in a dark, cold cabin with no power and Red is outside getting wood from a shed he claimed is nearby and she’s shaking. 

She wraps her arms tighter around her legs, trying to quell the shivering.

Suddenly the front door bursts open with a bang and she jumps, springing to her feet, terrified and ready to run. But it is just Red forcing the door open with this foot since he has his arms full of wood for the fire and he’s already talking before he’s even fully through the door—

“… and I’m sorry it took so long, Lizzie, I could have sworn the wood shed was to the north of the cabin, not the east, but –“

Liz runs her hands over her face, heart racing, and slumps back down on the couch. She returns to her previous position, arms wrapped around legs and shaking, as Red closes the door and prattles on –

“… and I didn’t think we had too much left but, thankfully, there’s more than enough here to get us through this storm and – Lizzie?”

She looks up jerkily, staring at him from under her hood. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright?” he peers at her, concerned. 

“Yeah,” Liz grits out, wincing as another huge clap of thunder rattles the window panes. “Just don’t really like storms, that’s all.”

“Oh,” he says quietly, laying the wood down next to the fireplace gently and coming over to carefully sit down a few inches from her on the couch. “Is there anything I can do?” he asks softly.

“I doubt it. Just have to wait it out. Thanks, though.” 

Red nods, still watching her warily, but gets up and goes over to the fireplace to get started on building the fire. 

“You know,” said Red, snapping twigs and laying them in the grate, “my wife was always unnerved by storms too.” 

“Really?” Liz asks, only half paying attention as the cabin is illuminated with lightening once again.

“Mhm,” Red murmurs. “She used to pretend she wasn’t but I could always tell. She flinched at every flash of lightning and clap of thunder. Curled up the couch with a glass of wine, trying to distract herself.”

“Do we have any wine?” Liz asks hopefully.

Red chuckles. “Unfortunately not.”

“Damn,” mutters Liz. Wine never hurt in situations like this.

“But I always knew how to comfort her,” Red continues, starting to pile logs on top of the twigs.

“Oh yes? And how’s that?”

“Put my arms around her and tell her stories to distract her.”

Liz has to admit, that sounds nice. But that’s exactly what Tom used to try to do for her during storms and she doesn’t need that reminder right now, here with Red, trying to keep herself under control.

After all, she’s a grown woman, she shouldn’t be afraid of a little lightning and thunder. It’s ridiculous, she thinks, annoyed at herself. Red was the one who went out and braved the storm to get wood anyway, not her. 

Get a grip, Liz, she thinks to herself.

She watches as Red lights a match and after a moment, a fire is roaring in the grate. Liz appreciates the warm, comforting glow and the homely crackle. She wonders absently if Red can still enjoy a tame fire or if that experience is tainted for him. Perhaps she’ll ask him sometime.

Dusting off his hands, Red comes back to sit next to her, just as the biggest clap of thunder yet booms outside, causing Liz to squeeze her eyes shut and whimper a little, trembling worse than ever. 

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do, Lizzie?” Red asks again, sympathetically. 

Liz hesitates, unsure of herself, but then the huge flash of lightning makes her decision for her.

“Hold my hand until it’s over?” she whispers a little timidly.

Red blinks, surprised, but then a tender look slowly overtakes his features.

“Of course,” he murmurs, scooting a little closer to her and gently unclasping one of her hands from around her legs. He enfolds the pale, cold thing in his own strong grip, his thumb stroking gently over her knuckles.

Liz sighs, already feeling better, safer, the shaking in her hands slowing down, and surreptitiously leans into Red, enjoying his warmth.

She doesn’t see as Red’s mouth twitches into a small grin, secretly delighted to have her this close and be some measure of comfort to her. It’s one of the few pleasures he has left in this life.

Liz closes her eyes, doing her best to focus on Red’s steady grip on her hand, and the shaking slows to a stop. With the next clap of thunder, already sounding farther away, Liz thinks that maybe she’s found a cure for her fear of storms, here in a cabin with Red.


End file.
